Outdoor Education at the Arrow Lakes

/ Peter Klopp / Leave a comment

Guest Post by Erika Momeyer

Article reprinted from the ‘Rural Root’ Publication

ErikaM pic

Erika has been a classroom teacher for more than 10 years and previously worked as a park naturalist and environmental educator. Currently, Erika teaches in a K-3 classroom in Edgewood, part of the Arrow Lakes School District (SD10). During the past 7 years, Erika and her students have been going for weekly outings walking, skiing, snowshoeing, stomping, tramping, strolling, sauntering and discovering that outdoor experiential learning can be fun. Erika is also on the board for the Columbia Basin Environmental Educators Network (CBEEN) as well as the Local Pro D Chair for the Arrow Lakes Teachers’ Association.

Double 1

Back in September we collected a variety of nature materials to create self portraits with. Students were tasked with the challenge of using only objects from nature to make their portrait. It was inspiring to see the student’s faces jump out from the page. From a head of blond curls made of curled birch leaves, a long straight side ponytail made of grasses and a wide toothy grin of ghost berries or a students were able to use nature to show their physical characteristics and some personality. We used white craft glue to stick these portraits onto heavy cardboard. We also gathered sticks to spell out our names with and glued these to cardboard. Both of these projects are on display on our Wonder Wall, a place where we explore and ask questions about the world around us.

Double 2

During one of our walks students each collected a fallen leaf. We gathered at our meeting spot under the Pondering Pine and reviewed what symmetry means. During this time students gave me their leaves and I cut them in half along their axis of symmetry. The leaves were then taped into our Nature Notebooks. Students were asked to draw the other side of their leaf. Pencil crayons and shading techniques were used to try and match the drawn side to the real leaf. Students were then had to label parts of their leaf and write a brief description of their observations. To preserve the leaves in the journals we placed a small piece of clear shelf paper directly over the taped leaf and pressed firmly to seal.

Clay

Each student has a special bond with their Thinking Tree. These trees are chosen each September by the students and these trees become of place for journalling, observation, quiet exploration and occasional group play area. We try to visit bur Thinking Trees once or twice a month. It never seems to happen as frequently as we’d like. In order to carry a piece of our trees with us we made special amulets. We are fortunate enough to have a kiln at our school so we used regular clay. Air dried clay would also work for these. Back in the classroom I pre-rolled balls of clay about the size of a bouncy ball. In the forest students flattened the balls against the bark of their tree. We tried to find interesting patterns to press the clay into. We also poked holes in the top. Once dried and glazed we tied these to our walking backpacks. Students with extra time found other patterns including leaves and insect holes to make other amulets. These were made into necklaces and keychains.

Stars

Shortly before the Winter Break we made these Winter Solstice stars. During our walk students were asked to find 5 sticks about the length of their forearm and width of a pencil. We collected dead sticks from the ground. Using colourful yarn or natural twine we wove and tied the ends together creating a star shape. In order to maintain the shape we also tied the sticks near the middle where they crossed over other sticks. They weren’t too hard to make but definitely required teamwork and an adult to get them going. While I helped students with their star, the other students wrote in the Nature Notebooks about what they thought their Animal Personas were doing to prepare for winter. Animal Personas are animal names the students chose to use during our Walking Wednesdays and Outdoor Exploration activities. We have names such as Dr. Hornet, Sir Bobcat and Queen Owl. The stars looked great hanging in the window of our classroom.

Chapter 21 of the P. and G. Klopp Story – Part VI

/ Peter Klopp / 2 Comments

Destruction of Ancient Carthage

A Metaphor for Emotional Turmoil

There was enough explosive emotional energy bottled up inside me. Having no one to write to, I had to return to the unfinished novella to release it. At the park bench near the German Corner in Koblenz I had most of its content on Carthage written up in my notebook. The personal experiences making the story come alive were missing though. Now they were burning with a searing fire in my heart. My fingers were itching to commit them to paper.

Ancient Carhtage - Image Credit: ancient.eu

Ancient Carthage – Image Credit: ancient.eu

Our driving lessons had unexpectedly ended. We were told that the instructor was needed elsewhere and we would start over together with the next batch of soldiers coming in to render the course more efficient. Gauke and I were delegated to work  in the office. The assignment was to catalog the total electronic equipment with all its individual parts down to the last nut and bolt. Thus, we created a giant database for the signal corps stationed at Maxhof. I dictated the names and parts numbers and Gauke typed. One can hardly imagine anything more boring than this. But there was one advantage. We only worked during regular office hours, and we were done with our daily chores of number crunching by 4:30 p.m.

69

Peter playing with the neighbor’s dog (1963)

So I had more time than ever before to write in the semi-private room of our Maxhof residence. The historical sections of the novella heavily leaned on Mommsen’s historical work ‘History of Rome’ and to the best of my knowledge they described the power politics and Machiavellian schemes of Rome very accurately. My heart, which had lost two girlfriends within the span of less than six months, was the fertile breeding ground for the stuff that good writing feeds on. I transformed my former pen pal Margret, into Bersika, the daughter of a wealthy member of the Peace Party of Carthage to make the final dramatic encounter in the burning capital of the Carthaginians more believable. On the other hand, Claudia (Biene) and her twin brother received a more realistic description reflecting our first encounter at Lake Baldeney and the ensuing correspondence, which had ended so painfully. On the Palatine Hill in Rome Publius (Peter) and his friend became acquainted with an old sage, who introduced the young men to the philosophical center piece of the novel, which reflected my ideas, in part burrowed from Democritus, on God and His creation and how He lives within it in a mysterious interplay between mind and matter. The destruction of Carthage, the fierce house to house street fighting, the slaughter of tens of thousands of civilians, the senseless resistance of the dictatorial ruling party against the almighty Roman war machine, the burning houses, the stench of unburied corpses provided the background for the final scene symbolizing my chaotic troublesome state of mind.

Crest of the Signal Corps

Crest of the Signal Corps

When I had penned the last line, I felt an eerie calm come over me. For a while I sat at my desk without a thought, without a feeling; it seemed that my inner being had been poured out into the thick writing book before me. Private Gauke entered the room. He had been teasing me about my writing craze for the past couple of weeks and had noticed with genuine concern how I was withdrawing more and more into my crusty shell. He said, “Peter, it is about time that you get off your chair. I just discovered a cozy pub in Feldafing. Let’s go and have a drink of that great Bavarian beer.” Gauke was a fine fellow. I gladly came along. The novella was finished.

Fauquier’s Flower Paradise

/ Peter Klopp / 6 Comments

Photo Essay

Rose after the Rain

Rose after the Rain

The Tower of Margarita.jpg

Tower of Margarita

IMG_1780

Flowers of the Thimble Berry

Golden Banquet Table

Golden Banquet Table

IMG_1896

Rare Tiger Lily

IMG_2194

Fox Gloves among the Daisies

Precarious Foothold over Turbulent Creek

Precarious Foothold over Turbulent Waters

More Photos at Flickr (search for peterklopp42)

Chapter 21 of the P. and G. Klopp Story – Part V

/ Peter Klopp / 8 Comments

Army Heaven

Lake Starnberg, Bavaria - Photo Credit: bavaria.by

Lake Starnberg, Bavaria – Photo Credit: bavaria.by

Maxhof, a modern army training center, was a pleasant surprise to me. In contrast to the drab sameness of the 19th century design of the Falckenstein barracks, Maxhof impressed me with its pleasant appearance. It had more the looks of a hypermodern youth hostel than of a military building complex. Trees and ornamental shrubs surrounded the sleeping quarters, the cafeteria, and the administration building. There were even flowerbeds at the main entrance. Best of all was the room, where we were going to sleep. With its comfortable beds, its large windows with a view from the park-like setting all the way up to the nearby mountains, its brightly painted walls, a spacious desk for Gauke and me, all I needed was Mother’s fancy tablecloth, a vase with some pretty fall flowers to have the illusion of being at home.

Maxhof with Lake Starnberg in the background

Maxhof with Lake Starnberg in the background

Gauke and I reported for duty the following morning at the main building. There was a momentary kafuffle over us two soldiers from Koblenz. Apparently the officer in charge of the transfer was supposed to have provided certified truck drivers. The officer behind the counter was very much upset over being cheated out of two valuable experienced drivers. But in the end he assigned us to a driving instructor and informed us to show up for our lessons the very next morning. Gauke and I could hardly show restraint in our ecstatic joy over this most fortunate turn of events. Apart from our first positive impressions about the physical surroundings we noticed with glee that there were no mandatory line-ups, no check-ups of room, closet, and clothes; this was army heaven.

Massive Mercedes truck - the type we were trained on

Massive Mercedes truck – the type we were trained on

After two weeks of enjoyable driving lessons on the big Mercedes trucks, the compass needle of my inner life was no longer spinning out of control. More than three weeks had passed by now. Biene had not yet responded to my letter and I thought that if our correspondence was to end it should at least end on a good note. So I wrote,” … A relationship, no matter how you look at it, which had so beautifully and lovingly developed, is not the kind that we just break off. Something of that, which we shared, will remain open and will eat forever at our hearts. Therefore, I would like to amiably end, what we have so amiably started. Let us if not in reality then at least symbolically shake hands and without any bitter feelings part from each other. I am thankful for all the dear letters and tell you once more that you have given me much during the time of inner trouble and distress. Please do not turn down my last request, dear Biene, and write to me just one more time. One last sign from you, and I will be content…”

But there was no sign, and I was not content.

Chapter 21 of the P. and G. Klopp Story – Part IV

/ Peter Klopp / 12 Comments

One Misfortune Never Comes Alone

I was still reeling under the blow of the unexpected military transfer to Maxhof, Bavaria, when another one hit me like a bolt out of the blue. Biene wrote that she had met a young Dutch man by the name of Henk, to whom she was now engaged. They were dreaming about their own home at the edge of a forest near the city of Arnhem and were planning to get married. The news nearly tore me apart, all the more as Biene described our relationship as merely a nice correspondence between friends. Although my emotions were running high, I immediately responded to her letter and thanked her for being honest. It was a miracle of sort that I agreed to keep writing her. That promise was so terribly out of character, so contrary to what my pride and sense of honor would have allowed me to do that there was only one explanation. I was still in love with her.

Biene on Vacation at Lake Ammer 1963

Biene on Vacation at Lake Ammer 1963

Sleepless nights followed. I held endless conversations with myself. At times I would place the entire blame on my shoulders. Dieter was perhaps right, when he said that a kiss is more powerful than words, passion stronger than tender sentiments expressed merely in letters. Then the American folk song ‘On Top of Old Smokey’ was going through my mind during those agonizing hours of wakefulness. The apparent truth of the line ‘I lost my true lover for courting too slow’ hit me especially hard. Suddenly the pendulum swung into the opposite direction. For a short while, I found relief by putting the blame on Biene. ‘Surely, one does not get engaged overnight’, I argued. ‘Why didn’t she write me sooner? Why did she allow the correspondence to drag on so long? What about her other pen pals, the young man from Morocco for example? Does she want to keep all her options open? Is she like a bee, as her name implies, flying in a kind of romantic dance from flower to flower to see where she would find the sweetest nectar?’ Having experienced both ends of the emotional spectrum, I finally settled for a more balanced view. The wildly swinging pendulum was coming to rest in the middle. Concern for Biene pushed anger and jealousy aside; she might have responded to the lure of marital bliss too quickly. These internal monologues went on and on through several nights, at the end of which I was completely exhausted. But I had calmed down enough to finish my letter to Biene with the words, “Just one thing you must promise me. If you perceive a danger for your happiness in that you cannot distinguish between true friendship and love between a man and a woman or if your future husband does not like our correspondence, then have the courage to say goodbye. For I do not want to destroy your happiness.”

Frauenkirche, Munich, Bavaria - Photo Credit: wikipedia.org

Frauenkirche, Munich, Bavaria – Photo Credit: wikipedia.org

With my Phillips tape recorder in one hand and a heavy suitcase in the other, train tickets and army papers in my wallet, I stepped on the Intercity train to Munich. Private Gauke, whose first name I no longer recall, accompanied me to our destination. We were both in uniform, as this was a requirement when traveling on official assignments. While the high-speed electric train was rushing toward the Bavarian capital, Gauke tried to cheer me up by pointing out all the advantages of the prestigious truck driver’s license later in civilian life. But he succeeded only partly in pulling me out of my morose taciturn shell. He did not yet know about the other problem, for which the possession of a driver’s license offered no solution. In Munich we had to catch a local train to Starnberg. Thousands of passengers were milling about the main station. At the crowded automated billboard announcing arrival and departure times I spotted the wrinkled face of my former scout leader, Günther von A. He was as surprised to see me, as I was to see him. What were the chances of this occurring? Once in a million or less. And what were the chances of still being in love with Biene? The question made me think about fate and destiny, a topic that philosophers and theologians great and small have been grappling with for centuries, a can of worms, which I decided in my present state of mind to leave unopened.